Category: Weights

My current writing process, looks a hella of a lot more like a marathon therapy session than anything else. Fun? Absolutely not. In fucking fact, it’s hard as hell. Usually it goes something like this. Every morning I wake up, take a shower. I then proceed to drink my coffee, while I read whichever book I am tearing into at the moment. Then spend half an hour on Headspace guided meditation, after which I sit down to write. Each session falls somewhere between half an hour, to an hour.
No, it sure as hell isn’t fun that fuels the engine. It is the necessity of getting it out of the way, so that I can move on to what it is that I really have to write. It is getting to the good shit. If I don’t ‘write it out’, I may never be able to get out of my own way, and deliver what I’m meant to, what I know that I got inside of me. Therefore the show goes on. Most day of the week is set up like this, because I have every intention of getting over this phase, as fast as the universe allows me to.

The rest of my focus are spend in the gym. Currently my coach predicts my training 3 weeks at a time. Honestly this kind of makes everything worse. That’s just the truth. I enjoy and get my release by lifting very heavy objects. So at this point submitting myself to the program that will ultimately produce the best long term results and hypertrophy on a bodybuilding stage, is in ways suffocating me. Most of the time I feel one of tree ways: 1. like smashing objects, 2. crying or 3. screaming into the face of vulnerable baby animals.

I don’t lift heavy to shape body in a certain way (at least I don’t anymore.) I used to do endless amounts of ‘accessory’ work to ensure that I was getting the full effect.
I stopped doing that when I realized that lifting heavy and constantly pushing myself beyond borders, was where I found the flow and peace that I had unknowingly been seeking my entire life.
It took a while to accept these truth or even understand it. In the moment I don’t think I knew just how much lifting meant to me. How much ‘me’ it was to be in the safe environment of the weights. When I switched to a new gym in ‘16, I also found my tribe. A group of people who understood what it felt like to be this kind of ‘different’.

The world doesn’t really understand it. It takes one look at girls with muscles and gets slightly unsettled. Voicing a cocktail of self-doubt and social ideals. It doesn’t know how to handle what is cultural unnatural. It might look fondly with approval on the round butt-cheeks, that our leg-training provides, but as soon as vascularity and upper body strength is mentioned, you’ll be told to be careful not to get too big. If in any case your looks should precede a muscularity of what is considered borderline acceptable, you’ll get a look like you have just insulted their mother or smacked a puppy. Girls aren’t suppose to be THAT strong. We should be fragile, petite and waiting to be saved from evil, evil dragons. ((Hah.))

The way I see it, there is just one problem in this scenario: My own, personal way of perceiving these opinions. These opinions have the least to do with me and my life choices. You make a strong statement or lifestyle choice and sure as shit Sherlock, people are going to bark. I think you’d would be surprised if I told how often I encounter critique about my looks and my weight. It is daily. I wouldn’t be lying if I estimated that my weight is debated among my peers, between 4 and 6 times a week. When I made the decision to start training heavy, it apparently also meant that I signed some invincible contract, making my personal life publicly debatable and appropriate to discuss at any given time. It was fucking weird getting used to, but for my own sake I had to get over it real fast.

I understand that this way of training, eating and living is strange, different and at times hard to understand. It isn’t the ideal way to live for most, and it isn’t something that most would desire in a million years. But living in this way, choosing this as my world, is my truth. To deny myself living this way, would ultimately be denying myself. Regardless of what others might be voicing as right or wrong, I have by choosing to refuse ‘the norm of ideals’, chosen me. I have decided to live my truth. Even when it isn’t simple. Even if it isn’t agreeable for most. Even if it means swimming against the stream.

This is what training is to me. Not an addition to living, but life itself. My survival. It isn’t me trying to optimize my body or change the way I look. It is my flow. The love I feel, when my heart starts pounding and how I came to find myself in ways I’d never imagined possible. When things got heavy.

There is no good way to start a blog. None. Null. Otherwise, I may have done it a long time ago. Blogging has been an ever-so-often fleeing thought of mine since, well… Since I realized, that I wanted one, and there was no good way to start a blog. Hence the waiting time, and for that I apologize, this being foremost to myself, because let’s be honest. I am the primary individual benefiting from writing and getting things out of my crowded and every bit as thought-clouded mind.

So…

Everything that has a beginning must have somewhat of a purpose, whether that purpose is baking cookies, every day for one year and sharing the recipes and becoming a chubby chief famous cookie master. That’s not my purpose, but let’s call that our plan B, since it actually does have an awfully tempting appeal and I do in fact love cookies (but maybe not enough to start an entire blog about them).
If I do change my plan thought, I will be sure to give a heads up. That is, if the drastic and sudden change of content from barbells to cookie-pictures doesn’t give me away flat out. Also this will be your quo to find another blog to follow, if you aren’t into baked goods.

However, until all else fails.

I am, in fact not a chocolate chip extraordinaire. I guess the title page in sorts gives me away. I’d like to call myself writer, but storyteller is a more of an accurate subtitle. I mindfully have debated Chief Executive Storyteller (CES), and I may just have to give that title some extra consideration.

I tell stories, it’s one of my many talents. Or you could call it a long time fascination, something that has stuck with me ever since, well, since someone explained that the purpose behind learning the alphabet was to read and write. This was also the sole reasoning behind me being a ‘slow’ reader, for a very long time. Nobody bothered to explain the main reason behind the actual importance of the alphabet. If things don’t make logical sense, it has an unhealthy tendency to flat out bore me.

Fortuitously, someone caught me before I turned thirty and gave me a heart to heart, told me the common essentials of the importance of learning new things, in order to be a self-sufficient information machine. So I figured out the alphabet and took to books and stories, like a baby octopus to water. (The baby octopus is actually commonly referred to as octopus’ larvae, in case anybody’s interested)

Long story short, I learned to read and write ‘late’, but when the ball finally dropped, oh boy, did it drop. (LIKE IT’S HOT)

I still have the people around me accused of teaching me stills, as reading and writing to occupy me, so I wouldn’t speak so much. That’s only a theory though, they would never cop to that of cause.

I found another one of my flow states, sort of by accident, in the beginning of 2016. I used to blindly believe that I liked running. This was until I started lifting weights. (Then I realized I don’t. I really don’t. After a while it just becomes a really boring game, that you cannot win. Sort of like Farmville)
Lifting weights are for me, like music are for others. It’s a form of meditative state of being, it’s become a necessity of optimal survival for me.

I suppose that either bodybuilding or powerlifting would have been a more accurate definition than strength training, but it just happens so, that bodybuilding and storytelling didn’t go very well together and that Strength Training and Story Telling is more memorable, and gets superior PPC hits on google, and to be honest sounds pretty darn good, if I may say myself.

So, back to the subject at hand, WHAT THE HECK IS THIS ABOUT.

Well, it’s about me. Some writing and storytelling, part refection’s, science-geeky stuff, fragments of everything that makes a human into a person.